


Tip of My Tongue

by OpalPenWriter



Series: The SNK Stamp Card [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Bartender AU, Bartender Jean, Cuddles, Duet, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Musican Marco, Or bingo card whatever, Romance, Sarcastic Marco, Sexual innuendos, Small amount of angst., Stamp Card collection, Strong Language, cheesy ending, slight drabble, tickilish Jean, very tiny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 08:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1297783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpalPenWriter/pseuds/OpalPenWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean works at a well known bar and loves every minute of it. It totally has nothing to do with the cute brunette that does live performances there occasionally.  Marco is a deep soul with a beautiful voice and he notices Jean as the other man stares him down every night. This is a story of two hearts migrating together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tip of My Tongue

**Author's Note:**

> Wow! I had a lot of fun writing this! This is basically just drabble with plot behind it I guess. This was for a stamp card that one of my dearest friends made for me to work on some of her dirty little cannons that she likes. They're actually very adorable and I dived right into this one. This is also my longest oneshot ever and I never thought I could churn out 11k words like that but I did! I hope you like it and if you see any mistakes, feel free to tell me! 
> 
> The Stamp card can be found under my tumblr which is also OpalPenWriter.
> 
> And the list of songs are in order.
> 
> Tip of my tongue - Civil wars  
> Strong - Will Hoge  
> Over you -Miranda Lambert  
> I won't Give up - Jason Mraz  
> When I look at you - Miley Cyrus  
> You and I - Michael Buble

Working at a bar was either usually very crappy or very amazing depending on the particular setting. Luckily enough, Jean had a pretty decent boss and Maria’s was a well known and well frequented bar sitting along the Coastline. It was one of the more prominent bars that catered to the young tourists and locals that enjoyed the nightlife and the management didn’t hire just anyone who walked in off the street.

Maria’s was a large bar that had an extensive collection of local and imported liquors, offered live music and a quiet set of booths that were situated just on the other side of the bar. It was clean and well kept and had appetizers to die for like the chilly cheese mega fries. There was never a weekend that the place was not crowded to the brim with people.

Not many people could say they enjoyed what they did, especially with the hours that Jean worked, but he wouldn't have traded it for the desk job that his parents would have preferred him to have.

Jean had been working as a cashier when his roommate had announced that he was moving out West to go live with his cousins and try to make it big on some kind of entrepreneur's dream. It was only by recommendation did Jean get the job at Maria’s.

Maria’s never hired anyone without experience from what Jean had been told and he had been fresh out of a mixology program when his roommate had decided on the move. It was by sheer luck and a good roommate that he was able to secure one of the better bar-tending jobs on his side of the city.

He lived up to exceptions though. He was, of course, a trained mixologist and could make a seven liquor cocktail with his eyes closed. He had only ever broken one glass in an attempt to dazzle the crowd with his skilled hands.

Jean enjoyed his job immensely. He enjoyed the bar for its quiet weekdays and hectic weekends that included Friday nights. The tips were amazing and the hourly pay was not that bad either. Jean even got a front row ticket to the live music that played every other Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Jean could not have asked for a better job.

He enjoyed Fridays the most, even if it was the busiest day of the week for the bar. He saw hundreds of faces when the sun finally set on Fridays, indicating to the nightlife that the day had just begun. Large groups of people came and went on Fridays. Blond women and smooth talking men would constantly flirt with him either to get inside his pants or get away with a free drink.

Out of all the people that came and went in only the matter of hours, Jean could specifically remember one face that had been buzzing around his mind the first time he saw the other. He remembered Marco’s face distinctly, and not because Marco was there every Friday.

Marco was a lanky brunette for the most part. He was tall, a few inches above Jeans’ own height, and had chocolate brown eyes that were simply to die for. His face held a child like quality and Jean wish he could record the other’s laughter and save it as his ringtone.

So maybe Jean was being a little creepy, but Marco was possible the cutest grown man he had ever seen.

Marco’s hands were something that Jean enjoyed the most though.

Marco Bodt played at the bar every Friday. He had been playing there before Jean got the job and it made the two-tone haired man curse that he didn’t get the job sooner.

Marco knew his way around a guitar just like Jean knew his way around liquor bottles.

Those long figures would strum across the taut strings as Marco and various female partners would sing out a soft ballad or a brooding tune. Jean found himself getting lost in the motions of Marco’s hands or swept away by his soothing voice.

It was like clockwork, as Jean found out. Marco would show up some time before the evening crowd to set up, hauling with him a singing partner (he didn’t seem to be able to keep the same one) and a beat up dark wood Gibson Guitar.

Marco and his partner would sit on stools for hours and just sing. Some nights, Marco would just play elegantly on his guitar as his female companion would serenade the nearby crowd. Jean would not be surprised at all if Marco made more in tips that Jean did with his entire salary.

But within the six months that Jean had been working there, he had never once approached Marco. At first, he chalked it up to being extremely busy with work until he realized that Marco would stay sometimes into the wee hours of the morning when there was virtually no one there.

Jean had ample time and opportunity to talk to the brunette that had captivated his intention, but never acted on it. He was not scared or intimidated by Marco in the least. He was Jean Kirschtein and Kirschtein men were not afraid to make the first move.

But there were a number of factors that caused Jean to hesitate. Anyone of those female partners could have been Marco’s girlfriend. Marco might not even be attracted to men at all. Jean didn’t really know Marco except from the information he pried out of other coworkers, and that really wasn’t much to go on. And, to top off the list of reasons that Jean kept his distance from Marco was the weird looks that Marco sent over his way when the brunette thought Jean was not looking. It didn’t settle right with Jean.

Maybe Marco thought he was a creep? Jean was sure he was a bit more discreet about his oglings, but Jean was obviously not giving Marco enough credit about his perception. He tried to hold on to some pathetic idea that Marco was simply returning Jean’s interest, but it never advanced farther than just awkward glances between each other.

Jean settled with just watching Marco every Friday. It didn’t seem to matter the range or the type of song, Marco would serenade the bar patrons that dared to listen. His female company blended into the background as the brunette took the lead. He held power behind soft features and smooth notes of harmony.

It was almost heartbreaking when Marco had to leave, snagging a drink usually when Jean was on break and leaving just before the morning light broke through the endless night.

This went on for a couple of months. Jean would stalk Marco with his eyes. Every moment and every bob of an adams apple, Jean would collect and store away later to totally not jerk off to. He picked up a few more things about Marco personally. Like how his favorite color was green, and not that shitty lime green but a deep forest green that had tranquil vibes. Marco worked another job but jean couldn’t figure out exactly where (not that he had tried or anything) and the brunette had been single for almost a year.

It actually took Jean a few minutes to get over the fact that nobody had succeeded in bagging the musician for an entire year. For fifty-two weeks nobody could tie Marco down. For three hundred and sixty-five days, Marco had gone home to no significant other. Jean tried extremely hard not to become giddy at the notion that Marco was almost completely ripe for the taking.

Or rather, asking out politely over a coffee or something of the sorts.

Yet Jean never left the safety of his bar to actually go talk to Marco. Jean knew that this situation altogether was unhealthy but his life was full of unhealthy situations. There was an unhealthy situation festering in his refrigerator inside a chinese take out box.

“Vodka and sprite”

The request kicked Jean right out of his day dreaming and had his hands moving to create the requested concoction of drink. “Half and Half?” Jean inquired without looking up to the guest that requested such a bland drink.

“On second thought. Vodka straight.”

Now, on this request, Jean had to look up. Golden eyes traced up the smooth jaw line and across pale lips before stopping at deep chocolate eyes that looked far more intense when they were viewed at a closer distance.

“Marco-” Jean commented, cursing himself for being so obvious.

“Oh, so you do know my name.” the brunette chuckled as he took the glass as it was slid over to him. His lips formed a devilish smirk as he took a sip and sputtered a bit.

Jean cocked an eyebrow and pulled from under the bar a liter of sprite for the light-weight. Marco refused it with a shake of his hand. “Stronger than I thought it was going to be.” He said trying to laugh and not wince at the burn on his throat.

Silence passed between them for some time, the buzz of the bar doing nothing to break the ice between them. Jean moved to serve a few more customers who lingered around. It was almost three in the morning and most of the party had already left and was heading home.

Eventually, Marco called Jean back and asked for a refill. Jean only partially obliged, filling the thick glass with bubbly soda instead imported vodka this time. “So tell me. How come you know my name and I don't know yours?” Marco inquired as he placed his elbows on the bar and cocked his head to the side.

Jean shrugged as he decided to clean a few glasses that had some pesky spots. “You’re here every friday, I would have to be pretty stupid not to know what your name is.” He countered as if was common sense.

“Ok. So you’re not stupid. But you’re obvious”

Well shit.

“Hmm?” Jean inquired as his eyebrow piqued as if he had not heard the other speak because bar glassware was far more interesting apparently. “What do you mean by that?” he asked finally.

“I mean.” Marco slid the empty glass across the polished wood as he stared at Jean. “You’re creeping on people skill needs a bit of work.” A small smile spread across a heavily freckled face and Jean refused to acknowledge the other at this point.

Marco didn’t catch the hint. Instead he continued to poke and prod at Jean. In all honestly Jean had brought this onto himself. “Come on. You’ve been eying me for months. All of a sudden I finally make the move because you’re too chicken shit to do it and your clam up on me?” he accused with an infuriatingly smug tone.

“Oh, you think I’ve been eyeing you?” Jean countered as he placed another clean glass back on the rack. “You’re sure full of yourself.”

“And you’re painfully obvious. Are we going to run around in circles or what?” Marco asked. “You’ve been acting like a high schooler. Longing across the room but not having the balls to actually come get me.” Marco teased and Jean was aware when someone was trying to egg him on.

It was incredibly hot when Marco did it.

“Hmmhmm” Jean simply agreed with a soft hum, sarcasm still thick even though he had not replied with actual english.

Marco drummed his skilled fingers across the bar top and let out a sigh. He was digging at this point and Jean was not sure if it was to ridicule Jean for his behavior or to actual confirm if he was attracted to Marco or not.

“You’re ridiculous” Marco blurted out as he leaned almost his entire upper body against the bar. The place was nearly empty now and closing time was only about an hour or so away. Marco was usually long gone by now.

Jean let a chuckle pass through his lips as he secured the tops to the bottles and pushed some trash off the bar and into the bin. He wiped his hands off on his apron before untying it and placing it on the nearby rack. “I’m ridiculous? You’re the one who is trying to woo a bartender.”

“Thats because you wouldn’t actually get the nerve to come to me.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to come to you.”

“So either you lie or your eyes lie.”

“You’re some kind of deep thinking poet now?”

“No. I teach English to high-schoolers during the week.”

That set Jean back a bit. He never took Marco as the type to teach. He was far too talented as a musician to be stuck in a dead in job as a teacher. “Must be horrible.” Jean offered as he found himself leaning on the bar top as well.

Marco shrugged as he ceased the drumming of his fingers. “I wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t enjoy it. Teaching is something I find comfort in.”

“Ah. So you’re one of those people who likes to service others” Jean smiled.

Marco wiggled his eyebrow a little bit. “Depends on the service.”

“...And here I thought we were having a decent conversation.”

“We were. Mind in the gutter?”

Jean blinked. Marco was certainly a character. He might appear like a gentle and quiet soul from afar, but close up and personal, Marco was a devious little shit with a dirty little mind.

Jean couldn’t have fallen more in love with the brunette.

They chatted for a little bit more, exchanging small bits of information of their lives. Jean had talked about his roommate that had previously worked here, who Marco had not known personally. Jean also informed Marco about his mixology program and how he had moved to the Coast only a few years back. Marco countered with his own stories. He had lived in the city all his life. He had a large family that probably made up half the population of the county. He had been musically talented as child, but never really pursued a career in it. English had been his biggest passion. He had fallen in love with Mark Twain by the time he was thirteen and had read Machiavelli’s The Prince seventeen times before graduating high school.

It was almost two hours after closing time when the manager finally pushed them out the door, thanking Jean for his good work and commenting on Marco’s beautiful blond partner of the evening.  
As they separated paths, Marco turned with a full grin on his face. “Same time, next week?” He called across the parking lot to the fading figure of Jean.

His own reply was a chuckle and the slamming of a car door. A smirk curled into his lips and Marco eyes glistened with a natural mischievousness.

\---

Their late night conversation only blossomed from there. Every Friday after Marco’s allotted time in the corner of the bar, he would slide his way across the bar, eyes never leaving Jean’s and they would conversate while Jean worked until the crowd dwindled down and left only the two of them.

It became a routine between them. Jean would hand over an alcoholic beverage that Marco could clearly not handle before changing over to a soda. Marco would tease and goad the other along and even had Jean blushing to the tips of his ears at one point.

They started catching an extremely late (or extremely early) dinner after the bar closed. They would walk a few blocks down to the twenty-four hour pancake house and dive into mounds of golden pancakes and sugary syrup. Their talks extended even more.

Marco talked fondly about his students, even the ones that were little pricks at times. He worked at Umanity High School, home of the fighting Titans and had been an English teacher there for almost five years.

He had found the bar by accident when he had stumbled in there with one of his other colleagues who no longer worked with him. He became aware that they needed live entertainment and Marco jumped on the chance.

“It is not often you get to enjoy two of your passions in life and get paid for it.” Marco chuckled as he stuffed another buttery pancake in his mouth.

“Don’t choke.” Jean pointed out with concern laced in his voice.

“I don’t have a gag reflex” Marco stated after swallowing down several more pancakes almost completely whole.

Jean found out how far he could project ice tea out of his nose.

They began to spend more time together outside of Maria’s. Marco had been the first to suggest it, once again pointing out Jean’s lack of balls for stating what he wanted. Jean would swiftly remind Marco that he was starting to sound creepy.

“No more creepy than your stalker habits.”

So maybe Marco had him there.

They started running together in the mornings on weekdays through Trost Park. They had lunch almost every Wednesday and Jean could truly say he had made a friend out of Marco Bodt.

He watched, openly and freely now, as Marco sang on Friday Nights. It seemed that his voice had entranced Jean even more now that they were actually friends.

Some nights, Marco would stare at Jean as his mouth moved against the microphone, either whispering words of love that tangled through the air, or dirty innuendos that had Jean slightly hard in his work pants.

Tonight was no different. The only slight change was that Marco was solo in his song. He had not brought a woman along with him. Albeit it was different to hear just Marco’s voice, it sounded far better to Jean’s ears.

_Never Saw you Comin’_  
 _O-oh._

_My_  
 _Look what you’ve done_  
 _O-oh._

_you’re my favorite song_  
 _Always on the tip of my tongue._

The room erupted into half-assed applause and Jean was sure that his eager fan-boyish clapping rang out the loudest. Marco smiled brightly as he placed the guitar on its stand and leaned towards the mic. “Thank you guys so much. I’m going to take a quick break and be back in about five minutes.” he breathed before standing and stretching out his arms.

It didn’t take him long to weave his way to the crowded bar and find a seat. He ordered a whiskey on the rocks and Jean slid it to him. Marco wasn’t getting better at holding his liquor and the wince as he drank was the clear indication.

“That was amazing.” Jean encouraged as he moved down the bar for a moment to serve out a few more drinks before returning to his brown eyed friend.

Marco shrugged, something that seemed to be his trademark and shotgunned the rest of his drink before slamming the glass down as if he had been drinking for twenty plus years now. “I know.” he replied cheekily.

Jean swatted the other away with a dry towel, urging him back to the slightly elevated stage to finish up his performance. The patrons deeply enjoyed Marco’s voice just as much as Jean did. Marco had told him of the several times he had gotten offers to play at other bars or even events.

When Jean asked why he had rejected the offers, Marco had replied with a smug grin, “Other bars don’t have you.”

So that might have thrown Jean through a loop or two or seven.

\---

One night during his short Christmas vacation that involved staying home and catching up on his favorite werewolf tv show, Jean had been pulled from his marathon stupor by a knock on his apartment door.

He instinctively glanced out through the windows and took notice that it was still snowing like mad outside and was curious to know who would have come looking for him in this weather. Nobody in his apartment building really talked to Jean at all, so he highly doubted that his neighbors had a change of heart on Christmas Eve.

They sure didn’t last year.

He through back the quilts that lined his body and scurried to door. Checking through the peephole, Jean let out a small breath as he saw Marco.

Opening the door, the mousy haired man was started as the brunette jolted inside, wrapping long arms around him and shaking almost uncontrollably. Stunned for a fraction of second, Jean wrapped his arms around Marco before closing the door with his foot.

He led the distraught man to the kitchen table and sat him down. Marco tried to speak, but the only thing that came from his mouth was hiccuping sobs and jumbled masses of letters that couldn’t form into words.

“Look. Calm down, Marco. You have to breath. I’m afraid you’re gunna have a panic attack, which might give a panic attack.” Jean insisted as he moved some of Marco’s matted hair out of his face.

Gently rubbing Marco’s shoulder in a circular motion, he promised his return before leaving the kitchen. He came back in a few minutes, holding dry clothes that had not endured the cold and icy weather just outside. He instructed the other to go change in the bathroom just down the hall.

Once the bathroom door close, Jean set about making some hot chocolates, debating whether or not to slip a bit of diluted alcohol in the glasses before decided that was the worst thing he could do.

And possibly the creepiest thing he could do, given the situation.

Placing the mugs gingerly on the coffee table and making room for Marco, he waited until the brunette decided to join him. “Just leave your wet clothes in the hamper.” he told him. Marco nodded silently, moving to the clothes basket against the wall near the entrance of the apartment. He placed his clothes inside before looking at Jean, standing awkwardly at the door.

With a small sigh, the mousy haired man opened his arms up wide, a clear invitation for Marco, which the man took. He bolted forward, landing in a weird position on Jean’s lap, but made no efforts to move as he began to sob once more.

“Shhh.” Jean whispered, reaching over the body on top of him and flipping the tv off so they sat together in complete darkness. The only light source came from the dim blue glow from the street light.

They stayed like that for a while, Jean holding Marco and Marco laying against the other. It seemed like hours before Marco finally calmed down to the point that he was only hiccuping every five minutes or so.

Sniffling, he leaned up and wiped his eyes. “I’m sorry.” he croaked out to Jean, feeling embarrassed now. “I was not sure who I could go to. I didn’t want to be alone. But I don’t know anyone else that I could have went to. I’m really sorry. I sorta just barged in. You could of had company or-”

“It’s okay.” Jean silenced the other with a stern look. “Don’t berate yourself Marco. If I didn’t want you here, I would have told you to leave. You needed someone and I am more than happy to make you feel better.” he assured.

Marco nodded, as if that was all he needed to hear and a few moments of silence passed between them. “My brother died today.” he admitted with a heartbreaking sob. He moved back down to lay on Jean, placing his head on Jean’s chest and laying his body completely against the other’s.

“He was Twenty-Four. He was scheduled to come home next month.” Marco stated as he rubbed his eyes.

“He was in the service?” Jean inquired lightly as he gently played with Marco’s hair.

He felt Marco nod against his chest. “He was in the Marines. He was strong, unlike me. He was outgoing and bold and brave.” Marco couldn’t help the fond smile that formed on his face. “He was such a good brother. And an even better Marine. He cared for all the members of his team. He even sent back pictures of them together for Christmas last year.”

Marco laughed a little bit, but it sounded broken and destroyed. “We used to play all the time in the backyard of our old home. He was so proud of me when I graduated college. He even surprised me at my class one day when I was first teaching.” Marco continued.

“I remember that day so clearly now. I had just started a warm up on the board for the students when the door opened and the principal walked in. I about had a heart attack, thinking that I had done something to get fired, but then my brother stepped out from behind him and I broke down into a crying mess.” The brunette sniffled, vainly trying to wipe the tears away from his eyes.

Jean wished that he could have gotten an opportunity to meet the man. He sounded by all rights a perfect and amazing human being that would have given his life for the prospect of good.

A human being that did give his life for the prospect of good.

“Sounds like a fantastic man” Jean offered lowly as he moved to stroke Marco’s back.

“He is-...was.” Marco murmured as he clutched at Jean’s shirt. “My mom got the news first and then called me. I didn’t even know what to say. I hung up the phone. I broke some of my stuff. But then I sat there and I cried. But I didn’t want to cry alone.”

“Do you want me to cry with you?” Jean asked, being completely serious about his suggestion. Marco simply shook his head. “No. No. But thinking about you. About your smile and your presence made it hurt less. So I came here.”

“You know its snowing like 1993.” Jean informed the other. “You didn’t drive in this crap did you?”

“No. I walked.” Marco confessed after some time. Jean didn’t feel like scolding the other would have done any good at this point.

It was only a couple of days later, when the snow had been shoveled off the roads and the temperatures rose high enough above freezing did the funeral take place. Marco had asked Jean to attend, and even though Jean was unsure what the Bodt family would think of a strange man attending their deceased son’s funeral, He went anyway.

He went for Marco, and stood beside him with a comforting hand on his shoulder as the brunette strummed his guitar for his brother one last time before they put him six feet underground.

_He’ll pick you up and won’t let you down_  
 _Rock solid inside out._

_Somebody you can trust_  
 _Steady as the Sun._

_Ain’t nothing gunna knock him off the road he’s rollin on_  
 _He’s strong._

Marco was the last one to leave. He stayed by the casket and stared at it as if he was waiting for his brother to wake up and leap from the wooden box. The diggers were getting rather impatient, but Jean’s stature dared the men to say even a single word to Marco.

“I’m ready to go home.” Marco whispered as he looked up at Jean, who had stood loyally beside Marco the entire time. He moved his hand and entangled it with Jean’s. The mousy haired man did not protest as he pulled Marco up and led him to the car. “You’re parents already left. But I can take you to your house-”

“I want to go home with you Jean.” Marco stated, soft eyes scanning Jean’s face for any kind of disagreement.

Struck for a moment, Jean nodded and opened the door to his car. “You can come home with me anytime, Marco.”

Marco missed a couple of Fridays after the funeral, and more often than not he would stay at Jean’s house. Marco had his own little cubby of items in Jean’s apartment now, including a toothbrush and a plushie tiger that Marco refused to part with.

It got better and slowly Jean saw the return of the bright and sarcastic Marco that he stalked for a few months. Marco returned to the bar and continued to play which relieved Jean. It was a sign that Marco was coping, but the pain was still there deep within the roots of Marco’s mind and heart.

It was obvious that his brother’s death left a scar on Marco that would never fully heal, but for the most part Marco didn’t show it. He didn’t show it to the people who looked at him longingly like Jean did as he sang the blues in the corner of the bar.

He only showed Jean when he broke down in the shower one night. He only showed Jean when he couldn’t eat for a few days without a true reason as to why. He only showed Jean that he was hurting inside when he curled up next to him in bed and cried into his shoulder.

But when he left the apartment, Marco was strong, just like his brother. He went to school and taught kids all week, then poured out his heart to unknowing patrons as he sang words that broke Jean’s heart because he knew Marco was still hurting inside.

_You went away._  
 _How dare you?_

_I miss you._

_They say I’ll be OK._  
 _But I’m not going to, ever get over you._

They sat together in the bar late one night as Jean finished up with his cleaning duties. Marco was staring intently at a scotch he didn’t even touch but instead swirled the thick liquid with a martini umbrella. Marco looked tired and worn, like had been forced to sit through a wind storm.

Jean watched the other for a moment or two before placing his warm hand on Marco’s smaller one. Brunette hair moved as Marco’s jerked his head up as if he had been spacing out. He stared at Jean with hollow eyes.

“I cannot replace him, Marco. But I am here for you. I am always here for you.”

Marco’s eyes flicked from Jean’s face to his hand. A beat or two of a moment passed between them before Marco turned his hand over an intertwined their fingers together.

“I know.” Marco nodded, pulling Jean’s hand up to his mouth and kissing the back of it. “I know, Jean. You’ve been so good to me. More than just good to me. You’ve been amazing. I don’t even know how to repay-”

“Don’t even worry about it. Friendship doesn’t have the policy of repayment.” Jean said as he sort of half hugged the other over the top of the bar. “You ready to go home?”

\----

“Do you wanna sing with me?” Marco asked out of the blue as he leaned back in one of Jean’s kitchen chairs. He was tapping his pen against his bottom lip as he graded papers. Marco had taken his class through a grueling week long study over Foreign plays and their influence on respective cultures. Jean could tell by the unsatisfied grunts that Marco was not happy with the grades he was writing down.

Marco didn’t look up when he had asked it and Jean was not sure if the other was serious or not, so he kept sipping on his coffee and flipping through the cartoon section of the newspaper.

“Can’t decide?” Marco chuckled after a pause between them. Flipping to the next page, Jean bent the corner so he wouldn’t lose his place before turning his attention to Marco.

“Decide on what?”

“You are so dense sometimes. Either that or you zone me out on purpose.” The brunette pouted, sticking out his lower lip a bit and Jean was tempted to graze his teeth across the plump flesh and claim it as his own.

“-sing with me?”

“Hmmm?” Jean murmured as he glanced back up at Marco’s eyes which were currently rolling towards the high heavens. The brown eyes locked back onto Jean’s own golden ones and narrowing decisively.

“I am going to strangle you.” Marco snapped a bit agitated with Jean’s airheadedness.

“We haven’t discussed kinks, Marco.” Jean retorted with a chuckle, laughing even louder when the blush crawled down Marco’s neck and underneath his shirt. Jean could only imagine the light flush crossing the expanse of Marco’s chest.

“So you do wanna sing with me or what?” The brunette huffed out as he stood, going over to salvage some of the cold coffee sitting on the kitchen counter.

“You ask me that as if I can actually sing, Marco. I mix drinks for a living, not sing.” He pointed it out as if Marco honestly didn’t know. Of course he sang in places like the shower or in his car when he thought all the windows were rolled up.

“Come on. I’m not exactly Britney Spears here.” Marco replied as he mixed two spoons of cream into his coffee. “I’m average at best. It all about the emotion you put into it. And its not like you’d be singing in front of thousands of people. Not even hundreds. Just a handful in a bar-”

“In a bar I work at.” Jean corrected as he went back to his comic section. He nearly snorted with laughter when he heard the stomping of feet. “Throwing a tantrum will not help your case” he added casually.

“How about some bribery?” Marco asked, running a hand across Jean’s shoulder. The older man was not sure when Marco had gotten behind him and how quiet he had gotten in a course of seconds.

Jean opted to ignore the other, sense Marco tended to behave much like a child when he wanted something. It was infuriating and absolutely adorable all at the same time. Marco didn’t go away though and instead ran a hand gingerly up Jean’s neck, causing the man to shudder.

“I regret ever telling you that I was ticklish.” Jean stated, eyes simply skimming over the cartoons now, but not actually reading them.

“Are you going to sing with me?” Marco asked again, running his hand downward this time, successfully moving some hair out of place on Jean’s neck.

“Would you quit it.”

“Would you sing with me?”

“Marco. Petty blackmail is not going to convince-AH!”

Jerking away, Jean attempted and failed to control his giggles after Marco had dived in on the most sensitive part of his neck with his devious and talented fingers. He turned fully to look at Marco while placing a protective hand over the back of his neck.

Marco wiggled his eyes and a feline like grin graced his face. “It is your choice, Jean. You can either sing with me this Friday, or I can tickle you every waking moment for the rest of your life.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Marco jumped forward, sending Jean scurrying to the other side of the table, before cursing as the fact that Marco had him indeed cornered on the situation, both metaphorically and physically.

“You obviously have not learned a thing since the beginning of our friendship. Maybe I should remind you of the time you forgot to bring home my desired mexican take out. You couldn’t sleep without having your door locked for a week.”

Oh yes, Jean remembered that very clearly. He had seen the vicious side of Marco that week when Jean had innocently forgot to grab Marco some lunch. It seemed that that only thing scary than hell itself was a hungry and angry Marco.

Jean’s dentist was probably a close second though.

“Sing with me?” Marco asked one more time as he watched Jean with a careful eye. “I promise you its not going to be bad or terrible. I would never ask you a thing like this if I didn’t think you could do it.”

Marco sounded completely sincere and it softened Jean’s resolve a bit. However, Jean was still hesitating as they stared at each other from across the table. Marco decided that it was time to pull out the big guns. He blinked once and then twice before he rubbed innocently at his eyes.

“Jean.” Marco murmured, looking at the other through his thick lashes.

“Oh. No. No. Don’t do that.” Jean pleaded as he looked away from the gaze. “Marco. Look. I just don’t know if I can-”

“Je-ean.” Marco whined as he moved closer to Jean, leaning heavily against him and wrapping arms around his shoulders. “J-e-e-e-an.”

“Fine! Fine...fine.” Jean finally cracked under the weight of what was Marco and he knew he was going to be in over his head.

A squeal that was totally not girly by Marco’s standards streaked through air as the brunette jumped up and down. “I knew you would! Trust me! This is going to be so much fun! I’ve already talked it over with management and they think its a good idea too! Oh! I need to go pick a song! This is going to be great!” Marco chirped as he scooted from the kitchen into the livingroom where his laptop was located.

The test papers were completely ignored as Marco buzzed with excitement and he could be heard mumbling to himself as he flopped down on the couch as if he owned it and flipped open his laptop.

Jean was a bit awestruck for a moment. It dawned on him in a matter of seconds that Marco had planned out the entire thing. He knew that Jean would eventually say yes and had the arsenal to break Jean’s resolve. He had even gone so far as to work it out with Jean’s boss before hand.

Marco was most definitely the sneakiest bastard Jean had ever invited into his apartment.

They practiced together for the entire week, whenever the two had time. Of course this called for late nights at either Marco’s or Jean’s home which led to rough mornings for the both of them. Sometimes they would sing in the car together after work or something of the sorts. The two of them had gotten into the habit of carpooling or picking each other up.

They practiced late into the evenings when Jean had to work over time. Marco would pick gently at his guitar and they would sing together. Jean had been extremely shy at first. He had never done anything like that before and almost bowed out of the whole thing.

A few encouraging words and a few more practices later and Jean was able to get a hold of his nerves and promised Marco that he would see it through. Jean found himself wanting the whole thing to be perfect, not for the crowd or even his boss but for Marco.

Friday came too soon though for Jean. He felt like a fish out of water not wearing his bar apron inside Maria’s. He felt almost naked. No matter the practices and previous words of encouragements from Marco faded away as soon as they entered the bar. His nerves must have been visible because Marco clapped him on the back of his shoulder and grinned like a wild man.

“Don’t be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“When are you going to learn that lying to me is pointless.”

“You wanna know what else is pointless?” Jean suggested with a snarky tone. “Music-”

“A class on how to mix drinks.” Marco chimed as he moved out of hitting range to go set up his guitar and the microphones. Jean was left in a bit of a stupor as he watched the other and while he wanted to snap back with some kind of smart ass mark, the window of opportunity expired before his brain could come up with the words.

Time passed in a blur and Jean had to ignore the urge to go help the stand-in that was covering for him tonight. Instead, Marco would stick Jean with that ‘look’ and Jean would remain in his seat, sipping on a Daniels/Coke mix.

He watched Marco as he entranced the crowd, which felt doubled in size for some reason. He looked even better close up. He was wearing a shirt/vest combination with some tight dark jeans and the glasses that Marco occasionally needed to read.

And finally it was his time to stand and join Marco and Jean was sure that he was visibly shaking in the dim light. The brunette introduced him and all Jean could do was something kind of pathetic wave before sitting down on the stool next to his friend.

“Now we are going to get to pop Jean’s performance cherry.” Marco chuckled, eliciting a few echos through the faceless crowd and Jean could feel the heat crawling up the back of his neck and above his collar.

“We’ve worked really hard on this piece and we hope you enjoy it like we’ve enjoyed working on it.” Marco chirped before looking at Jean. “You ready?”

“Always.” Jean found himself saying with a small smile as he leaned towards the mike.

_When I look into your eyes_  
 _Its like watching the night sky._

_Or a beautiful sunrise_  
 _Well, there’s so much they hold._

_And just like them old stars_  
 _I see that you’ve come so far._

_To be right where you are_  
 _How old is your soul?_

Marco took the lead so well and he looked so comfortable. He opened his mouth and let the words flow forward and into the mike. He strummed gently across the strings before turning to Jean, which was honestly the only way that the mousy haired man knew it was his turn.

_Well, I won’t give up on us_  
 _Even if the skies get rough._

_Even if the skies get rough_  
 _I’m giving you all my love._

_I’m still looking up._

Jean knew that his voice had wavered at the second or third syllable but he steadied himself by looking back towards Marco who held the same bright smile that never seemed to leave his face. Marco nodded slightly and winked at the other as Jean continued, silently offering his encouragement for his friend. Turning towards the crowd, Jean felt his confidence soar as Marco enjoyed him and their voices tangled together.

_And when you're needing your space_  
 _To do some navigating._

_I'll be here patiently waiting_  
 _To see what you find._

_'Cause even the stars they burn_  
 _Some even fall to the earth._

_We've got a lot to learn_  
 _God knows we're worth it._

_No, I won't give up._

_I don't wanna be someone who walks away so easily_  
 _I'm here to stay and make the difference that I can make._

_Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use_  
 _The tools and gifts we got, yeah, we got a lot at stake._

_And in the end, you're still my friend at least we did intend_  
 _For us to work we didn't break, we didn't burn._

_We had to learn how to bend without the world caving in_  
 _I had to learn what I've got, and what I'm not, and who I am._

Jean swayed with each word, getting lost in the music just like he had done many times before behind the safety of the bar. Here he was exposed and he felt naked, but those feelings faded with each note and each passing glance towards Marco. Jean was by no means going to make a career with his voice, but it complimented Marco’s and held a quality of rugged beauty.

By the time the song was coming to the end and Jean was let alone to finish it out, the man barely noticed as Marco’s voice died out and he pushed forward.

_I won't give up on us_  
 _Even if the skies get rough._

_I'm giving you all my love_  
 _I'm still looking up, still looking up._

Marco was beaming at this point, watching Jean break from the shell he had created. He hadn’t even seen Jean smile this much making drinks and it left a sudden and fuzzy feeling in his heart to see his friend this happy. Picking lightly at the strings he opened his mouth to serve as a backup for Jean.

_Well, I won't give up on us (no I'm not giving up)_  
 _God knows I'm tough enough (I am tough, I am loved.)_

_We've got a lot to learn (we're alive, we are loved)_  
 _God knows we're worth it (and we're worth it.)_

Breathing in deeply and ignoring the goose bumps crossing over his skin, Jean took the mike with both hands and stared out at the crowd, mouth still forming the lyrics that he had endlessly memorized in his bathroom shower.

_I won't give up on us_  
 _Even if the skies get rough._

_I'm giving you all my love_  
 _I'm still looking up._

Jean had not realized that the crowd was cheering a little louder than usual until Marco shook him slightly from his daze with a tight side hug. “They loved it.” The brunette breathed into his ear as he bowed slightly, bringing Jean with him as he bent over.

“Thank you guys so much.” He called out to the crowd as Jean continued to play the silent card. Placing his guitar on the stand, Marco nudged Jean slightly and raised his hand entwined with his own. “Give a hand for the ever talented Jean.” Marco smiled.

Another round of applause started up and Jean felt a smile spread across his face.

\---

Jean always slept in late on Sundays. It had been that way when he had his roommate and it had been that way after he met Marco. Sunday was the only day he had off and Jean took full advantage of that.

He would keep the blinds closed and the room completely dark and cool. Not even the neighbors upstairs could wake him, and they enjoyed doing inside workouts before the sun could actual break across the horizon.

Marco had tried and failed a few times to rise the other on Sundays. He eventually gave up entirely and left Jean to his slumber. He would always get the same grunt and groan from Jean before the man turned on his side to ignore Marco.

Marco was pretty sure Jean had hissed at him one time when the brunette had dared to open the blinds.

Today was no different and Jean did not open his eyes until it was well past twelve in the afternoon. He glanced at his clock before stirring from the covers. As slow as a drunk sloth, Jean rolled off the bed and touched his feet to the floor.

Jean had a suspicion that Marco was already up considering the man liked to greet the damn sun every morning. Jean chalked it up to the occupation Marco held.

He stretched and yawned, popping his back and knuckles before finding the bathroom to relieve the tension on his bladder. Leaning his head against the wall to keep himself from falling over, Jean’s ears caught a sound and when it registered, Jean let a breathless chuckle pass his lips.

Marco had an addictive habit of singing while he did almost anything. Between cooking and working on papers or flipping through books, Marco was like a personal jukebox machine. The difference was that Marco was free and didn’t have a slot for quarters.

_Everybody needs inspiration_  
 _Everybody needs a song._

_A beautiful melody, when the night's so long_  
 _'Cause there is no guarantee, that this life is easy._

_Yeah, when my world is falling apart._

Finishing up in the bathroom, Jean slipped down the hallway and stood with his legs crossed as he watched Marco. The brunette was almost the equivalent of a housewife.

Moving across the living room, Marco swayed his hips to the slow music emitting from stereo sitting against the wall. He seemed not to notice Jean and that was totally fine by Jean. He enjoyed watching Marco, regardless if he was watching him from behind a bar or in his own apartment.

_When there's no, light to break up the dark_  
 _That's when I, I, I look at you._

_When the waves are flooding the shore_  
 _And I can't find my way home anymore._

_That's when I, I look at you_  
 _When I look at you, I see forgiveness, I see the truth._

_You love me for who I am like the stars hold the moon_  
 _Right there where they belong._

Wiping the dust of the empty shelves, Marco bobbed his head a bit more enthusiastically than he would have if he was aware of Jean’s presence. Jean withheld the snicker in his throat when he realized who was the actual singer of the song that Marco was belting out. It was a decent song, but it was not like Jean was not not going to use it against Marco later in their future.

Blinking, Jean spaced out for a moment at his own thoughts. Their future?

_And I know I'm not alone_  
 _Yeah, when my world is falling apart._

_When there's no light to break up the dark_  
 _That's when I, I look at you._

_When the waves are flooding the shore_  
 _And I can't find my way home anymore_

_That's when I, I look at you._

Marco nearly jumped out of his skin when he turned a complete circle and caught sight of Jean. A hand went across to clutch at his chest and Marco heaved in a large amount of air. He said something but Jean was not paying attention, far too busy trying to keep himself from bursting into a fit of laughter.

Moving across the carpeted floor, Marco turned the music down and tried not to look guilty. “What are you doing?” he asked, continuing to clean as if he had not been caught in the act of singing into the feather duster.

A small snort of laughter was cut short by a leveled look towards Marco. “What are you doing?” Jean countered, a question for a question.

“I’m obviously cleaning. You need to have your eyes checked.” Marco suggested with his back to the other man.

“Maybe I should have my ears checked too.” Jean snickered but covered his mouth as Marco turned, a look of murderous intent clear across his face.

“Did you just insult my singing voice?” Marco asked, trying not to sound shrill.

“Is that what you call it?”

Brown eyes widened and his mouth went slack as Marco stared at Jean as if he was just stabbed painfully in the stomach. It was funny up till the point Marco sprinted across the living room, chasing Jean back into his bedroom and reminding the man that Marco knew all of Jean’s overly ticklishly spots.

And possibly found a few new ones during the tussle.  
\----

Jean continued to sing with Marco every now and then, but most nights Marco was flying solo. Oddly enough he didn’t bring partners with him anymore and Jean couldn’t remember when Marco had actually stopped.

Jean just happened to notice one day.

There would be some Fridays that Jean would be standing right there next to Marco as they sang together. Jean particularly enjoyed the upbeat tempos and the light, airy lyrics while Marco favored the low and almost romantic songs that wooed the female part of the bar crowd.

Marco had told Jean one day that the two of them were the most requested, simply because of the chemistry that they had together. Jean could only cock his head to the side and ask Marco what in the world that was supposed to mean.

He never did get an answer.

Marco began to teach Jean a bits and pieces of playing the guitar which Jean picked up pretty easy. He could play at the level of an eighth grader, but that was pretty damn good considering that Jean had no musical talent whatsoever.

“That is because you have a fabulous teacher.” Marco whined as he instructed Jean to play some chords for him.

Jean was in no shape to actually play in front of crowd, but Marco assured him that he would get there one day. When Jean protested the idea, Marco hit him on the back of the head and told him to keep playing.

A couple of days later, Marco sat down at the kitchen table and smiled mischievously at Jean. “I don’t like that look. That look is the look of the devil.”

“Devil’s son.” Marco corrected with a shit eating grin as he stole a piece of cereal out of Jean’s bowl and munched on it. “So how do you feel about doing a song with me this week?” he asked, cockign his head to the side like a small puppy would if it was begging.

Stumped, Jean curved an eyebrow upwards. “I can.” He stated, because they have already sang together before several times. At this point, it was nothing new to Jean. Marco was acting a bit suspicion. “Whats the catch?”

“You’re gonna have to play-”

“No.”

“Jean, you didn’t even let me fin-”

“No.”

“Jean, come on-”

“No.”

“Jea-”

“Nein.” Jean stated as he flicked some corn flakes toward Marco’s head, cursing when he missed by a mile. Marco didn’t seem amused at all by Jean’s diversion tactics.

“Why not, Jean? You’ve gotten so good at it.” Marco argued his defense. Jean would tend to agree with Marco but he didn’t want to sing and play an instrument. That was twice the things he could mess up and make a fool out of himself.

“Jean.” Marco deadpanned when the other was not answering him. The brunette was already thinking of complex and evil ideas to persuade the man across the table to do his bidding when jean actually surprised him with an answer.

“Fine. I’ll do it.” Jean stated, looking away from Marco with a small smile. “I get to pick the song.”

“You already said you would do, so no take backs and no, you don’t get to pick the song.” Marco informed the other before scooting off and into the second bedroom he had claimed as his own.

Jean felt like someone just robbed him. Literally and metaphorically.

\----

Preparing went the same as all the other times, excepting with the addition of Jean bitching about having to play the guitar. Marco assured him, like he had done millions of time before at this point, that he would be fine.

“You are fantastic at it. Like a natural.” Marco smiled as he watched Jean strum out the chords for the songs they would do on Friday.

“You’re such a bad liar.” Jean seethed as he plucked at the strings, a bit frustrated with the sound the instrument was making.

“I’ll take the title, as long as you believe that you’re perfect in just about everything you do.” Marco smiled; a bright and almost blinding smile.

“Dork.” Jean murmured, trying to cover his blush with his hand. He wanted to throw something at Marco but the guitar was just far too big and would have done more damage than Jean intended.

“Cocksucker. Can we move on?” Marco snickered as he handed Jean another sheet of lyrics for Jean to look over.

The days faded together until it was Friday evening, and Jean reminisced on the fact that he was spending more and more time away from his beloved bar and liquors and more and more time sitting beside Marco as they performed duets together.

He laughed as he thought about the migration. How it had all started with creepy glances and awkward silence and now Marco and himself were spending almost all their entire together.

“You ready?” Marco asked as he stopped in front of Jean, who was already sitting comfortably on a stool on the tiny stage. Jean offered a small nod and Marco smiled, ruffling Jean’s hair before sitting down next to him.

“Don’t be nervous. You’ve done fine before. This time will not be any different.” Marco told the other, patting his own guitar. “I’ve got you. I’ll be here the entire time for you, Jean.” he added.

Finding a bit of comfort in Marco’s promises, he nodded once more and let Marco introduce them.

“Good evening, ladies and gents. I hope everyone out there is feeling great tonight” Marco nearly purred into the microphone. “We’ve got a great selection tonight for you, and I know you’ll enjoy each one of them. But I wanted to start off with one of my favorites.” He told the crowd, before looking over at Jean. That was his cue to start playing, while Marco led through the first couple of lines.

_Here we are_  
 _On earth together_  
 _It's you and I._

From underneath his lashes, Marco glanced over at Jean with a look that Jean could really place. It was different this time. It sent a pleasant tingle down his spine as Marco continued to sing, his eyes never leaving Jean’s.

Jean felt a smile tug his lips upward as he sang into his own microphone, feeling a bit more nervous than usual. He felt his fingers tremble a bit and his legs jump, and he didn’t know why because he had sang a handful of times before.

A warm hand came down on the top of Jean’s leg and he felt his entire body melt into a tranquil bliss. Marco always knew how to calm Jean down, regardless if it was with words or actions. Jean couldn’t have been anymore thankful.

_God has made us fall in love_  
 _It's true_  
 _I've really found_  
 _Someone like you._

Jean swallowed thickly as he moved his fingers across the strings of the guitar albeit not as elegant as Marco could, but that didn’t seem to matter. They continued to stare at each other, Jean himself was a bit awe-struck at the raw emotion playing across Marco’s face. He couldn’t quite pin what exactly Marco was thinking, but Marco was a fickle soul anyway. His thoughts were always hard to pick up on.

It felt like Marco was searching for something as he breathed out the words in an angel like manner for the crowd to take in. It felt like Marco was looking deeply into his soul and searching for some secret that Jean himself was not even sure of.

_Will it stay,_  
 _The love you feel for me._

_Will you say,_  
 _That you will be by my side._

_To see me through_  
 _Until my life is through._

Marco’s hand finally let his leg once he had to play his own guitar, but left such a buzz on that particular spot that it was as if Marco had not moved his hand at all. At one point, Jean actually stopped playing just to stare at the enigma that was Marco Bodt.

He only started playing again when Marco sent him an amused look but never stopped the song. He kept going and Jean found his place once more. Jean could almost hear the chuckle in the words as Marco sang when Jean stumble through a few chords before fully getting back into the groove.

_Well in my mind_  
 _We can conquer the world._

_In love you and I_  
 _You and I, you and I…_

And if there was a heaven, Jean must have already died and was there. There couldn’t be a moment on earth that was this perfect and beautiful. There could be anything mortal about what was happening between himself and Marco.

_I’m glad,_  
 _At least in my life._

_I’ve found someone_  
 _that may not be here forever._

Jean dared a glance away from the guitar strings to the crowd of faces around him. They all were still with the exception of a few couples that swayed in their seats together, hands tangled around each other and looking fondly at Jean and Marco as if they were angels gracing the bar with their presence.

There were even people at the bar who were turned fully around to watch Marco and Jean as they sang together such a perfect and beautiful melody. If there was a dance floor, Jean was sure that there would be a group of star crossed couples twirling across the floor and whispering declarations of devotions.

_To see me through_  
 _But I found strength in you._

_Cause in my mind_  
 _You will stay here always._

_In love you and I._

And for a single moment it felt as if it was just Marco and Jean. It was just the two of them in the middle of a room as they sang together. Their eyes would meet often and Marco would hold Jean’s gaze until the mousy haired man was the one to turn away because of the sheer intensity.

Jean wanted to put a name to what was buzzing around in the air and what was buzzing around in his heart but he couldn't. It felt much deeper than any set of words Jean could muster to put together. It felt real and amazing and Jean halfway expected to see the credits roll past him to signal the end of a movie or something of the sorts.

Jean found himself getting completely lost in everything that was Marco. His voice and his eyes and the way he gently rocked his body back and forth in timing with the music. Every moment and word that came from Marco was the definition of perfection.

And Jean found himself wanting that moment to never end because it just felt right. It felt like the universe was in balance and there was such a thing a unity and harmony and it existed between the two of them inside a bar that was along the coastline.

_You and I, you and I_  
 _You and I, you and I_

_You and I_  
 _In my mind._

_We can conquer the world_  
 _In love you and I_  
 _You and I, you and I_  
 _You and I..._

There was a small stretch of silence before the clapping began and even a few whistles from patrons sitting in the far back. Jean’s face lightened up like a sixty-watt light bulb and he let out a breath he had not realize he had been holding.

There were a few women wiping patting the corners of their eyes while a couple or two pressed their mouths together as if the song had caused a spell to fall over them. Jean felt like he was sitting on cloud nine or something even higher than that.

It had never felt this way. It had never felt this deep and this intimate before when Jean had performed with Marco. It didn’t have the same consuming aura that wrapped around him and almost the entirety of the people in the bar.

Jean turned to look at Marco, surprised by the sudden and extremely positive reaction from the group of people and to ask Marco if he too, could feel the difference in the atmosphere. Jean was just blown away by the impact of one single song. The pair of them still had several more to go through before a break was even possible.

He opened his mouth to speak, but words were not given the chance to escape because Marco was corralling them back into his mouth.

The brunette placed a hand on Jean’s chest and dug his fingers into the fabric of his shirt, pulling Jean closer and pressing their mouths tighter together.

And it was like Jean’s body was on autopilot and responded so eagerly to Marco that it was little less than a public make out session before the two of them separated because of the need for oxygen.

They didn’t move away from each other though. Marco panting heavily as a blush tingled across his face and complementing the thousands of freckles there. Jean noticed that Marco was staring intently at Jean’s lips, either wanting to kiss him again or waiting for Jean to speak.

Jean’s heart was beating frantically against his chest, but it was not in protest. He actually felt giddy and alive and every part of his heart wanted Marco to be closer than he already was.

“Do you wanna go out with me?” Jean whispered as he stared deep into chocolate irises. He wanted them to stay like that forever.

Marco’s lips curled up on one side in a sort of one sided smile as he pulled the mousy haired man closer to him. “I thought we already were dating, Jean.” he admitted with a bit of sparkle in his eyes and a half-assed chuckle.

And in that moment Jean couldn’t have felt more in love with another human being. He could have died then and would have felt complete and loved all because Marco had stepped into his life.

“C’mere.” Jean murmured as he placed his hand on the back of Marco’s neck and pulled him in for another tender kiss, which seemed to be wholly approved by the bar patrons.

“I love you, Jean.” Marco whispered against Jean’s soft and pale lips.  
Jean was nodding eagerly before he could stop such an embarrassing action. “ I love you too, Marco.” He replied, feeling his heart elate with a type of joy he didn’t even know existed.

Taking a moment, Jean chuckled as he leaned his forehead against Marco’s. “I think now is the perfect time for the credits to roll.” he commented.

“What are you talking about?” Marco asked with a small fit of laughter.

“Oh, nothing important.”

 

 


End file.
